Sentimental Heart
by Pilgrimage
Summary: She finally peers up at him. "You were sad because you left everything behind. You had your friends, your family—" "And then I had you." Cam is so sure about himself here, where it's just the two of them in her invisible world, in his rink, and this time she's struck by how confident she is in discerning his genuine happiness. [Camaya]
1. Part 1

**_one: birds are telling me stories, saying you were meant for me_**

_She sees his body collapse before her, and she is too late to catch him as he lands with a heavy, dull thud below her. When she falls next to him, she hesitates to touch him, as if this would do him more harm, as if he would shatter into a million tiny fragments being so fragile._

_Her hands stay hovering above his face, wishing she could hold him. She wishes he would open his eyes to her, so she could see the expressive brown hues and flecks of light reflecting in them, so she knows he's still with her._

_He doesn't._

_"Cam," her whisper is barely audible, even to her. "Cam!" She fiercely whispers._

_He doesn't stir, eyes still closed to her._

_"Cam," she chokes out through a sob. "Come back."_

_She closes her eyes when she finally touches him. He's ice-cold._

_In an instant, she is reminded of her first instinct. The softness of his skin dissipates like steam rising from her reach, and she is jolted from the sudden loss of him as she grasps at thin air. Her wet lashes allow her to open her eyes slowly, revealing a white, glaring emptiness surrounding her. She chokes again, holding in the urge to call him, knowing he had gone; he had left her again._

* * *

Maya Matlin resolved that she was not the sentimental kind. It helped with the other labels she was receiving, from whispers in the hallways, anonymous writings on the bathroom stalls, and the leering from supposed friends. In fact, when she decided that Cam's passing had no effect on her whatsoever, she easily brushed off the 'whore' written in permanent black marker on the third stall from the back of the girl's bathroom, the 'poor Maya' she always seemed to overhear during third period Math with Mr. Reynolds, and the 'psycho' that was typed out in all caps from a blocked number on her phone's home screen.

Sentimental kind of people were not survivors in high school. They were the kind that would wallow in their despair and they wouldn't know it, but they paved their own spiraling path to loneliness. She would not fall for it, not on account of Cam's selfish decision. So, it burned when the realization came rushing after her, and she was sure she missed a step in avoiding this mess.

On a Tuesday, the one guy from that one party, from either last Friday or Saturday, was texting her about a 'meet up', and a churning, uncomfortable sensation takes over her stomach at the thought of a faceless boy grabbing at her. The tears she would not shed came shamelessly when she lashed out at a passerby she thought made a comment about Cam (he didn't); Simpson had her see the school's counselor, who she outright lied to about being 'just peachy'. Then there was the song that Zig had suggested would help her cope. The lyrics would not come, and the thought of not being able to string together her music with her words hurt more than she could tell anyone.

If she was going to be completely honest with herself, Maya Matlin was, for all intents and purposes and always, a deeply sentimental person. She has his things neatly packed in a box: a photo booth picture labeled with the date and lyrics of a song she wrote that day, a pressed clover leaf protected in laminate, his bracelet that she wore even in her sleep after Battle of the Bands, and tickets to the game she first watched the Ice Hounds. Sometimes she thinks the box is too empty to constitute holding only a few items, but she hasn't thrown it out yet.

This reason alone is not why she was currently lying on her back on the shore of Kapuskasing River. No, she's not chasing ghosts or trying to be closer to him. In fact, she was all but drugged and strapped into the Matlin minivan to visit her extended family who, by a twist of cruel kismet, reside in his hometown of Kapuskasing.

When Tori and Zig pry about it via text, she simply sets her phone to vibrate and chucks it in her dressy clutch, of which she chucks farther away. The smaller girl lying next to her dodges it.

"Hey!" The little one whines indignantly.

"Sorry," Maya says flatly.

"So, the people trying to reach you…are they Cam's friends too?" Maya turns her head of curls to face the girl, to say 'no' to this question.

"Kinda, I guess. I don't know. He sort of just had me, really."

"So-"

"So, you told me you'd take me from my lame family reunion so you'd help me get over Cam." Maya cringes when she hears her words spill out, because this is not how she wants to be remembered by the impressionable young girl—as cold and heartless for wanting nothing to do with her ex-boyfriend's poor, departed soul.

She's doesn't know how she was lured here, and in the heels she's wearing for her grandparent's anniversary party that's in its waning, last hours, she is glad the river was only a stone's throw away. When she really thinks about it, she has to give credit to Campbell's youngest, seven-year-old sister, who proposed the best offer of the night, that is to escape the polka dancing and nosy relatives.

"We're doing it right now." The girl, Sarah is Campbell's bright-eyed little sister, simply responds to the question.

Maya doesn't ask how Sarah knew she was here, and she finds it ironic (and masochistic is the other watchword here) that she joins her now, talking about the boy that she was resolved in forgetting.

"How is this helping?" Maya can't help but ask, fidgeting in her summer dress, moving some pebbles digging at her back.

Sarah shushes her before whispering, "Do you hear that?"

Maya closes her eyes, and only hears the cascading tides of the river near their feet, the crickets chattering by the a nearby brush, and the faint sounds of chatter and fading music while her family wraps up their outdoor party by the campsite.

She opens her eyes to face the lamp she insisted they bring along because the dark freaks her out.

"I hear-"

"Hear the river. Cam and I used to come here, around this time just to think."

"Think?"

"Cam's not a talker."

"Yeah."

"But, when he is, he always made things feel good again." Sarah, who had been looking up at the night sky, turns to face Maya.

The young girl's face is bathed in the lamp's glow, and the light catches in her brown hair that's pulled back in a loose pony tail, and it highlights her dark eyes. She looks so much like her brother that Maya has to catch a breath in her throat that would likely escape as a gasp.

"I-I can't do this!" Maya abruptly sits up, shaking her head. "I should go back. I'm sorry."

Maya gets up on wobbly feet, and notes to permanently place her heels in Katie's care later, and starts collecting her clutch when Sarah grabs her arm.

"I knew exactly who you were when I saw you." Sarah gets up on her feet too, and looks imploringly up at Maya. "I've never seen a picture, but he described you, then I saw you tonight, and I knew. I knew right away that it was you."

Maya stills in her grasp, and her legs almost give way as she looks at Sarah now, who suddenly seems so painfully young and hopeful as she bites down a shaky lower lip. "Please." Sarah adds a plea.

Maya folds her dress' skirt under her as she takes a seat, obliging the girl, "How did you know, without Cam showing you? He didn't have pictures?" Her voice is quiet, discouraged. She knew Cam, unlike her, did not keep items. His billet bedroom was only designed with the necessary, and the essential; there were no objects that he would only be able to give significance to. But, he didn't carry a single picture of them, of her? She mentally ticks off another fact to the growing number of uncertainties about Cam after his death.

"Cam wasn't ashamed, he talked about you," Sarah tells her right away. "But, he's never been the kind of boy that…" She bit her lip, furrowing her brows. "He's not good at show-and-tell. He's not like the boys in my class who always try to prove they're the best at all the games at school..."

"No, Cam was never _that _guy." Maya offers and smiles, her first one since arriving to the campsite days ago.

Sarah looks at the dark, glimmering water before them. "He told me," she starts wistfully. "That you're the girl from Wonderland."

Alice in Wonderland? She questioned inwardly. Maya's eyes trail down her dress, a blue summer dress with accents of white lace at the bodice and hemline. Her strappy heels were black. The idea seemed to fit. And Sarah is watching her gather the clues together.

Maya held the girl's intent gaze, searching her, wondering how serious she seemed to be. Hesitant, she remained tight-lipped, waiting for an explanation.

"Cam taught me how to read when I was younger. He read me stories about Alice every night because he knew it was my favourite." Sarah was beaming to herself as if she had thought of a fond memory. "I saw you and…and...it was like Cam's stories were _real_."

There was a something she wanted to say to little Sarah, but a lump that had seemed to form as she was listening stopped her. And even as the girl hugged her legs towards her, rocking back and forth, possibly thinking her confession a foolish thing to say, Maya still remained silent.

"You're really pretty, you know." Sarah finally faces her with a small smile.

Maya can feel herself flush, and replies, "Thanks."

"Do you have a boyfriend?" Maya's not sure if the serious tone in Sara's question is an indication of anything.

"Um…no."

"Do you like anyone?"

"I—not really. I mean…no."

"It's too soon to admit," Sara replies sagely.

"Uh—" Maya feels her palms growing clammy.

"Did you ever say," Sarah trails off, smiling coyly. "_You know_…to my brother?"

Maya stares blankly in response.

"Lo—"

"OH!" Maya interjects, wide-eyed and feeling her face burning what would probably be an obvious shade of red in better lighting. "I—"

"That's so romantic." Sarah's eyes look glassy and shaky as they search the river again.

With that answer, Sarah almost bolts up, standing, grinning widely again. "So, you can meet me here tomorrow at noon. I have to show you something, but I have to go now before my mom and dad start a search party."

"Wait—"

Before Maya can change her mind, Sarah skirts behind the brush behind them and runs. "I can't wait, Maya Matlin!" Her call is bubbly loud and her footsteps fade, crinkling and snapping leaves and twigs in her frenzied wake.


	2. Part 2

_**two: And I nearly didn't notice, The gentlest feelin, You are the bluest light**_

* * *

_Kapuskasing River seems vast. In fact, where a wooded area should be bordering the river, opposite of her, there is only more rushing waves and an endless, blue vista. It's bright and balmy here, wherever here is, and nothing like the campgrounds her family stationed themselves in, but there is a mental tug that tells her that it is the very place. _

_She looks around for more proof, scrambling to her feet and whipping her vision from side to side. Had she slept by the shore? How could she just sleep the whole night without noticing? Katie, her parents were going to kill her._

"_Hey Alice," comes a voice from behind her, it's sounds strange, like a voice that's filtered through a funnel or distorted by an instrument. For a moment, she's not certain who had called her by another name, but a trail of goose bumps along her arms warns her otherwise. _

_She drops her head, closing her eyes, hoping the voice will eventually drown with the sound of the river's waves collapsing near her feet. _

"_Hey," the voice calls again, louder as its owner is standing before her, and she is gripped with the fear of knowing._

_She tilts her head up slowly, and her eyes betray the plea to stay closed. _

"_You found my spot, well Sarah's and mine." _

_Cam is beaming with so much pride, and his smile reminds her of a time before he left, when he was watching her belt out a heartfelt tribute to him in a sea of a faceless audience. The same glint between the natural squint in his eyes whenever he smiles is there. The same perpetual furrowing of his brows, that makes him look as though he's always imploring for approval, is crinkling even more now. He's even wearing that army-surplus-looking jacket he once told her belonged to his father._

_Everything about him is him, and not the hallow spectre she had seen so many times in her dreams before._

"_My name isn't Alice," is the only thing manages to say, only she doesn't expect it to sound so broken._

"_Sarah seems to think she sees her heroine in you, and why not? You're just as brave, just as clever, and loving..."_

_Cam even scratches the back of his scalp the same way, as his habitual way to stall from an embarrassment. And when he recovers, he does so with a lop-sided grin, moving towards her to close the distance between them. _

_He waits, because he is always careful with her, and waits some more, his feet aligned with hers. It's when he reaches for her that something snaps, the same way the twig that Maya steps on does so when she backs away, as if his hands mean to harm her. _

"_May—"_

_He staggers back from the sheer force of her. She's thrashing against him, screaming, "Y-YOU LEFT M-ME! Y-YOU LEFT A-ALL OF U-US!" _

_She stays, beating at his chest, for some time before she realizes that his figure is blurry, her glasses had fallen at her feet at some point, forgotten. She slackens some, not because she's weary, even though her scraped and bloodied palms sting against her fingernails digging in her fists. Her flailing and blows are confined and softened from the firm embrace he has placed her in, and she finally stops when she wants to clearly hear the promises he's whispering into her hair. _

_She only hears half of the words he strings around 'so sorry' and 'miss you'. What she hears completely is said through another filter, and it's as though another funnel appears before he speaks, because it's the loudest and clearest thing that surrounds her._

"_Go through the rabbit hole, Maya." His breath tickles the hairs behind her ear._

Maya jerks awake, forehead and palms damp.

Katie's cautionary voice is catching up to her as she sits, waiting for the youngest Saunders by the riverfront, just as she promised. Why did you ditch the party? Who were you with? Campbell's sister? Maybe this isn't such a good idea, Maya…

It's midday, and she realizes that she can still catch the hayride contest with Katie and her cousins, because her sister's voice is growing louder and louder now, and the idea of meeting Sarah Saunders without the veil of night is kind of terrifying.

She gets up to leave, and even starts at a sprinting pace, getting as far as the sparsely wooded area just behind her family's cabin. It's here that she stalls, hearing Sarah's nearby protests.

"Don't you call him that!" Sarah's voice is an octave higher than she remembers, squeaking almost in rage.

"So what if I do. It's true!" A boy retorts, sniggering.

"Stop it!" Maya whips around, moving to the source of Sarah's voice that's cracking now.

"Psycho boy! PSYCHO BOY! PSYCHO BOY!"

"How dare you!" Maya finds them, and stands between Sarah and the lanky boy who looks about same age as Sarah. Maya isn't screaming at him, but she's fuming from the inside out.

"Who are you?" The boy, who stands about a head shorter than Maya, looks up at her, defiant and unafraid.

"You better not be talking about—"

"That lousy hockey jerk? Her dead brother?" The boy, still unnamed and petulant, points at Sarah and makes a face. "Why not? My dad says people who do that to themselves don't deserve our pity. They're selfish and they're stupid."

The flame that was ignited in the pit of her stomach since she laid eyes on the boy was blazing now, she could feel her whole body trembling from the heat. She wasn't sure what the boy's view looked like, but it seemed to stir something in him; his stance seemed weaker, and she finally saw his eyes flitting everywhere else but at her.

"You're a sad, sad little boy who knows nothing," she says, barring her grinding teeth.

She saw him flinch, but caught him before he could make another move. Holding him by the ear, she dragged him towards his family's campsite, which she persuaded him to show with his shaky finger. Sarah followed closely in tow.

Maya had never felt more acutely awake since arriving in Kapuskasing than from telling off the lanky red-head, Bradin (he finally tells her at his campsite through sloppy tears), who was tormenting Sarah. In her haste to bring Bradin back to his still ignorant father, she had forgotten that she had a shadow following her every step.

"So, what were you going to show me?" Maya turns and Sarah almost halts too late at the blonde's toes.

"I…" Sarah's eyes dart towards the ground, suddenly very conscious of Maya's acknowledgement.

Maya sees that she's clutching something behind her back.

"What do we have here?" Maya cranes her neck to look around her.

Sarah shows her, thrusting the book in front of her, her eyes still not meeting the older girl. Maya only smirks at the worn copy of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland clasped tightly in the girl's small hands.

"I kinda do look like her, don't I?" She admits considering the bushy, blonde hair and the small smile of the Alice on the book.

Sarah slowly peers over her book, and as the book lowers to show the younger girl's timid curiosity, she is relieved. In fact, it doesn't feel feigned, nor does she feel she's obligated when Maya takes the girl's hand, giggling sporadically at nothing in particular as they head towards the riverfront.

And it's on the riverfront where Maya shares Cam's last video message to her with Sarah, watching it with as much bubbling anticipation as Sarah; Maya realizes she hadn't seen it since Principal Simpson first approached her about Cam's death. She carefully watches the brunette, wondering what damage this might be doing, though that question is answered with Sarah's bright laughter that comes from Cam's monologue on ransoming Hoot.

"Okay," Sarah says with a heavy sigh. "I guess that's over with, and now I have to tell you how to stop thinking about Cam."

Maya fit of laughter falters at this. She clears her throat to say, "I…well, it's impossible to stop thinking about him; he was really important to me. I'm sorry if I said that before…"

Sarah eyes her, and it's comical to see her try desperately to appear nonplussed, hiding a secret smile. "Then…you should come by our place!"

Maya freezes. The thought of entering a house full of Cam's family, his pictures, his things, and feeling him surround her almost completely seizes her. She had gotten through the first month, where every corner she turned in Degrassi's halls baited a sharp, raw memory. The second month, where a t-shirt he had left in her house had his faded scent, which she had worn to bed every night, which happened to be the worst month since he had gone. Then there was the third month, where a mistaken announcement, listing the Ice Hound stats over the P.A. system, had Cam's name attached to another player's efforts. There is a dull ache that remains still, even half a year after he had gone, but the idea of her being immersed in his world again is something she'd rather not tamper with.

Maya shook her head. "I don't think that's a good idea. It would be…"

"Yup! We called it the Casa and we had the whole forest as our kingdom." Sarah ignores her bewildered stare as she continues to explain. "I want to you to see our throne!"

Maya counts one hundred steps south of where they were last standing when she drops her hands from shielding her eyes, and she waits for Sarah to explain the seemingly ordinary scenery that the brunette, who's practically bouncing on the balls of her feet, has taken her to.

There's a makeshift shelter made of old, worn plywood in the far off distance, and while she knows Sarah had blindly led her to somewhere near a stream because of the familiar sounds of water babbling nearby, she didn't expect to see a pond behind the makeshift shelter. The pond was lively, with rippling water coloured with greens and moss-laden rocks as it was fed by a cascading waterfall spilling over a gleaming stone stairway.

Maya opens her mouth to speak, but only manages a few string of incoherent vowel.

"Mi casa es su casa," Sara giggles and runs towards the shelter. "C'mon!" She jumps up and down impatiently.

Maya mutely follows her new little friend as she expertly explains all the landmarks and their significance. All the while, Maya imagines Cam and Sarah making these landmarks, making these memories. She sees Cam on the large rock next to the stream, and he is crowning his baby sister the Queen of the Forest. She sees Sarah knighting him with a long, wooden sword made of thin branches, tendrils and flowers sprouting at the ends. She sees Cam chasing Sarah along the stream, laughing manically as he pretends to be an evil wizard. Cam's smile is wide and easy.

It doesn't take much for Maya to play along, knowing she would not be able to resist her own crown being made by Sarah. So, she let Sarah lay her in a bed of flowers and narrate a story about a beautiful princess, named Maya, being awaken by the queen's blessing. Before the princess awakens, however, Sarah narrates herself battling a ferocious dragon. It takes all of Maya to not burst from Sarah's roaring noises, and Sarah's whining for Maya to keep her arms crossed and eyes closed. She commits to focusing on her breathing because it always helps her relax before falling asleep in bed. It helps some, but mostly it helps her focus on a pleasant daydream of Cam as the dragon and Sarah as the queen.

"NOOOOOOOOOO!" Comes Sarah's cry, and Maya's stomach jerks.

She comes to after Sarah lets out another high-pitched squeal.

"Sarah!" Maya enters to the makeshift shelter, and sees the girl huddled near a shrine of sorts.

"I-It's all r-ruined," Sarah splutters, and turns to look at Maya with tears streaming down her face. "C-Cam's things. M-my things. This w-was our place."

Maya sees torn pictures of the siblings, their family, two remnants of what looks like crowns, odds and ends, and a hockey stick broken in half are scattered in disarray on the ground surrounding the hysterical brunette. She's alarmed at the broken glass that surrounds her too, and she instinctively pulls the little girl away.

"Are you hurt, did you step on anything," Maya says, while she inspects her tiny feet. "You shouldn't be wearing flip flops here."

Sarah jerks away from her hands. "Don't!"

Maya stands up, taken aback. Sarah glares at her through red-rimmed eyes. "W-Why do you care?"

The older girl tries to speak, opening her mouth, but Sarah beats her to it.

"You're probably happy about this," Sarah snaps, and Maya winces at her biting tone.

"Listen, there must have been animals in here—" Maya starts.

"All you wanted was to forget my brother." Sarah gets up too, her small fists shake on either side of her. "You…You wanted me to help you get over him, to take away your memories. Well," she pauses to wipe away a new wave of tears that spill over her cheeks. "Th-this was our place, our best memories were here. Ru-ruined, and n-now, I can't even I can't have them. Y-you got your wish!"

Maya feels her chest tighten as she watched the small girl shaking in anger, and she immediately wonders if this is how she appeared to her own friends and family. Sarah screams at her, her nose running now too. Maya's chest tightens again, and her lungs feel as they are pulled into a similar core as she finds it harder to breathe.

She sees the way Sarah's eyes dart behind her, knowing she'll leave once she musters the courage. And Sarah does as expected, pushing Maya, causing her to fall backwards from a surprisingly strong shove from the little one, and she doesn't get up. She watches as Sarah leaves, running farther and farther away, though her cries stay ringing closely to Maya's ears.

"Wait," Maya says quietly. "WAIT!" She repeats, louder, voice cracking.


	3. Part 3

**a/n: Thanks for HopelesslyFictional for the continued reading! For anyone interested, a complementary song to listen to while reading this update is 'In My Sleep' by Austin Hartley & Kendall Jane.**

* * *

**three: But I know you will be holding me, In my sleep****  
**

"He's a looker," Meme Maddy whistles low, winking at her granddaughter. She sits across from the sleepy blonde and starts sipping her Earl Grey tea. She is always so chipper in the morning.

Maya, on the other hand, still seems to be grasping to the idea of being awake. When she realizes her grandmother is sitting across from her on the kitchen table, she also gathers that she must have referred to the picture she had opened on her phone's screen. Maya focused on the familiar picture, and smiled softly at his squinting brown eyes and the slope of his timid smile.

"He looks familiar..."

"It's Cam, Meme." The elderly woman did not flinch at the mention of the boy, not like everyone else, but instead she gives her a quick nod.

"Ah, Hockey Boy Wonder." Meme pulls at her earlobe and chuckles to herself. "He was all—"

"Everyone talked about here, I know," Maya mutters to finish the verbatim statement that seems to be on the tips of everyone's tongue. "Sorry," she adds, looking up at her amused grandmother.

"He also does a horrible job at hedge trimming," Meme mumbles into her cup of tea, and sips with a smirk. "The boy almost ruined my petunias when we told that boy to help us with yard work last summer."

Maya can't help the upwards tug at her own lips.

"Meme…" The light moment passes quickly, however, and Maya clicks her phone off, pocketing it.

Her grandmother hums, and scratches the nape of her neck, then ruffles her wispy, white curls.

"I'm sorry I haven't been involved as much as the rest of the family. I know it doesn't show, but I'm really happy to see you and Pepe. I'm just…"

It's the first time she sees her grandmother hesitate with her words. "I know," she offers kindly. "We all know, child."

"Am I a bad person for wanting to forget him most days?" Maya cast her eyes at her hands that are folded in her lap.

Her grandmother gives a light snort, and Maya looks up at her. She already has her pale blue eyes fixed on the younger girl, with not much more than a cryptic smile and shrug of her shoulders.

"I was in love with a soldier in my day. Thomas. He was a POW during the war in our time, people told me that he was as good as dead, they told me to forget." She takes her hand and rests her chin over it to reflect for a moment, closing her eyes. "He was so young, so was I, we hadn't even been together for two months before he left. He never came back," she adds quietly.

"So, it wasn't hard to forget?" Maya asks this warily.

"I couldn't forget those lips! My first kiss was a doozy!" Meme cackled at Maya's furious blush.

"Meme…"

"Oh, hush." Meme Matlin teases. "Now, listen. He had a best friend I absolutely hated, and I mean, pure hatred. In kindergarten, he used to tug at my pony tail for fun and put ants on my head so the whole class would laugh. He spit spitballs into my hair in high school. Real keeper, that one. Never had I ever hated someone more…What were we talking about?"

Maya shrugged, bewildered about her point.

"Right! This good-for-nothing kid turned into something of a friend after Thomas died. He would walk me home after school, drove me to the corner store if I needed to get something for my folks, helped me with my trigonometry homework on Tuesdays, held doors for me—the whole bit!"

"What happened?"

"I married the idiot!" Meme roared with laughter again, the cup of tea in her hand jostled enough to cause some spilling over her knuckles.

"So…" Maya held back a fit of giggles back, her curiosity winning over.

Meme wiped her eyes dry. "Mon chou, I never stopped thinking of Thomas."

"But—Pepe…"

"Thomas comes and goes, always finding me while I do the dishes, gardening, or whenever I pass by the radio station a block down Cherry Lane, but sometimes I will go months without thinking of him. You see, even after all these years, I will remember what he gave me."

Meme's not known as a crier, but Maya could not deny the quivering of her lip or the glassy sheen over her eyes. True to her form, however, her grandmother continued on with a knowing smile.

"His memory reminded me of a time of aimless and countless hours spent in malt shops and my firsts of, well, everything. His memory brought me my soulmate, his best friend, your foolish Pepe. His memory still reminds me of how precious my life had become, even after he had gone, even when I had thought I lost everything. How different my life would be if not for his passing, his connection with all of us."

Maya remained silent, thinking.

"Would you be here, talking to me now?" Meme added, tipping the cup to consume the rest of her Earl Grey.

"Cam had to die, he died for a reason?" Maya frowns.

"We can't possibly think that way," she gently chides her granddaughter. "I'll never know, Thomas will never know, and you and Campbell will never truly know why these things happen. It's hard to do now, Maya, but in time you will see what Campbell has done for the rest of your life, and for all the lives he's touched."

* * *

The Saunders' home is picturesque, with its white picket fence, windowsill flowers, and pristine front lawn landscape. In the morning light, it's beautiful and it makes Maya do a double take of the note her grandmother jotted down the address on. She is at the right address, and with the blocks she had traveled by foot, she cannot waste this trip.

She takes slow steps towards the white porch, and she makes it all the way to the door, her hand ready to use the gold knocker, only she retrieves her hand back. _Maybe tomorrow instead_, she muses.

"Good morning, can I help you?" A woman startles her.

Maya jumps and turns to face a middle-aged woman, who she recognizes instantly from Cam's family photo he had shown her once. Her copper hair is a shade lighter than Cam's, it's also shorter than she remembers, and her face seems thinner, but she knows it's her. Maya is stricken into silence.

"Are you here to see one of the boys?" Angela, she recalls is Cam's mother's name, asks.

"Mrs. Saunders, my name is Maya Matlin, I never got a chance to meet you, but I've always wanted to say—"

"Maya," Angela breathes into the hand she brings up to cover her mouth. Maya trails off by this reaction, and she feels her throat constricting, heart pounding.

Cam's mother moves and takes Maya into her arms, her embrace squeezes the younger girl firmly. "Thank you," she whispers next to Maya's ear.

When they part, the blonde gives a nervous laugh. "Thank you for what exactly?"

Angela simply stares at her, looking just as stunned as Maya feels. The younger girl wants to profusely thank her for not crying.

"Please, come in," Angela says eagerly, ignoring Maya's question, but most likely due to nerves rather than being unkind.

After several refusals, Maya relents and uses her fork to slice through a piece of the apple strudel Angela had placed in front of her. Maya nibbles on the crumbly bit she sliced, while she watches Cam's mother pace back and forth in the kitchen, tidying up an otherwise neat room. Maya fidgets in her chair, and finally places her fork on the table.

"Mrs. Saunders—"

"I'm sorry, it's a mess. I didn't expect company." Angela's back is facing Maya.

"It's fine, really." Maya is relieved she is not the only one feeling nervous from this meeting. "But, please, you should have some of this, it's really good, you know."

Angela sighs, and finally sits across from her, the oak wood table their barrier, while she stares at the dessert she gave her guest. She smooths the wood with her hands before looking at the blonde again.

"Are you here with family?"

Maya nods, "I came up with my family, just here for March break, for my Meme and Pepe's anniversary; it's kind of our family reunion."

"It's funny, isn't it?" Angela comments.

Maya stares. "Funny?"

"We're all connected some way or the other." Angela folds her hands together.

"Oh," Maya stares at her dessert.

"I'm glad you came here, because I wanted to thank you for the vigil that was held for my son at your school a few months back." Angela turns to look outside her patio window, overlooking her backyard garden. "I meant to send you an invitation to Cam's funeral, only I didn't want to pull you away from school, I didn't know if you would be able to—"

"I had school. My family wouldn't be able to afford me going anyways…it's fine." Maya offers a small smile, fighting the urge to react to the uncomfortable feeling of bile reaching her throat as the memory of her ruining the very vigil Cam's mother was referring to flashes before her eyes.

"Is something wrong, Maya?" Angela must have noticed the sudden change in mood.

"I—uh—it's nothing."

"I want to thank you for speaking to my daughter, Sarah. She took Cam's passing the hardest; she stayed in her room for a week, she wouldn't eat, she had forgotten and lost some friends."

Maya pulls herself together at the mention of Sarah, and she focuses on Cam's mother again.

"That is why you're here, right?" Angela presses.

Maya reaches behind her, where she digs through her knapsack strapped to her back, pulling out Sarah's book.

"Ah," Angela's grins. "Let's go see if she's been missing Alice then."

Maya passes through a long hallway, and she wants to peer over all the family photographs, even catching some glimpses of Cam's smiling face on some, but she moves with Cam's mother to find Sarah's bedroom.

"Oh," Angela sounds surprised. "I don't know where she's gone. With her brothers gone for hockey practice, she must be with her father."

Maya nods and is left alone in Sarah's room as Angela makes a phone call. She sits on Sarah's periwinkle bedspread, and notes that the pale shade of blue-purple seems to be her favourite colour as it is splashed over her walls, lines photo frames, and colours the rugs on the floor. Her eyes roam outside her room as the door is left ajar, and she sees it.

Etched clearly on the wooden door frame just steps away from Sarah's room is Cam's full name. Below it are lines labelled with varying heights. She leaves Sarah's periwinkle paradise, and reaches for the deep cuts on the door frame across from Sarah's bedroom door. Her fingers gingerly trace over 4'11" and 5'4". Finally, at 5' 7", she realizes it stops here, and wonders if she dares to open the door in front of her.

Her breathing hitches as she turns the doorknob. Cam's bedroom is nothing like the makeshift one at his billet family's. There is warmth here; the aged, hand-woven quilt draped over his bed clashes with his Toronto Maple Leafs bed sheets, there are odds and ends on his dresser that she wishes he could go over in detail with her now, at the bottom of his open closet are pairs of skates that are lined up in order of size, and there are photos everywhere.

Her stomach flips at every corner she spots a new item. They are items that did not occupy a single spot in his life in Toronto. His billet home was bare, and he certainly did not talk about friends in his hometown; she knew a boy that struggled with intimacy and often kept to himself in most situations. Because of this, forgiving him was easy when he shared rare morsels of his life, wrapped in kisses and promises that no one else knew who he really was. She knew he was simply saving more for especially her to see later.

_Campbell Saunders is not a collector_, she tries to reason with herself as she looks around, but her theory is crumbling.

The pictures are what really break her.

They show a story of his life that she scarcely knew, where he was huddled closely with friends, grinning madly with his siblings and family, and there were more intimate moments with even more friends she never knew of littering each successive picture she saw. A sharp pain digs at her chest as she glares harder at the captured memories above his desk.

"Maya," Angela calls from the hallway, effectively startling Maya out of a daze.

That's when she realizes where she is, and she finds herself feeling ill.

"Maya…" Angela finally finds Maya, and is giving her that look she wishes many would try harder to hide, the one that's pitying and miserable and unbearable to look from her perspective.

She takes her hands off the desk she didn't realize she was clutching, digging her finger nails into the grain to leave indents at its edges.

"I just remembered I have to be home-my mom-Katie, my sister's expecting me home. Now," she tries to keep the nausea baited as she moves out of Cam's room.

"Sure," Angela replies, and closes Cam's door.

Before Angela can get another word in, Maya makes a bee line towards the front door, willing herself to focus on the exit with a tunnel vision that would not permit her to stop and stare at reminders of Cam when she had planned to earlier. And she finds herself breathing in sharply, almost gasping, when she finally reaches the porch as she grasps at the nearby railings, wondering how much she had been holding in since stepping into his home.

She hears footsteps approaching her.

She runs.

* * *

_She is no longer afraid to go to bed this time, because she won't be greeted by a bleak dreamscape where Campbell Saunders is sprawled below her, cold and pale._

_No. Here and now, he flushes pink in his cheeks when he finds her eyes are watching his. And here she finally remembers how his voice sounded when he calls her by her real name._

_"Maya," he says breathless as he halts his skates before her, a shower of shaved ice coats her jeans._

_Her eyes take in her new environment. The ice rink, her own skates, her hands chilled to the bone by the cold, his hometown hockey uniform, his smirk that mocks her._

_"You had an entire life here, Cam," Maya mumbles and skates away without warning._

_Cam skates forward to catch up._

_"Yeah, did you think I lived all alone here, under some rock for fifteen years?" He is not unkind when he speaks to her, and she knows the tone he uses is one of benign curiosity._

_"No," she replied quietly, wringing her hands. She skates faster again._

_Cam chuckles, catches up, and takes one of her hands to still its vigorous rubbing. He laces his fingers with hers like it's the most natural thing to do at the moment, regardless of her distant attitude._

_Maybe she knows this is all a show, that he isn't really here, that once she lets go, he would leave here again, that this is some sick way her mind has found to see him again, just to be with him again. So, she doesn't cower away this time, and she glides with him around what he says is Kapuskasing's only hockey rink._

_"You never should have left your home here," Maya tells him, seriously, still not meeting his eyes. "I saw the pictures, your friends, it __**killed** __you to leave."_

_He squeezes her hand. "No. I did _**_that _**_because I was sick."_

_She finally peers up at him, taken aback by his candidness. "You were sad because you left everything behind. You had your friends, your family—"_

_"And then I had you." Cam is so sure about himself here, where it's just the two of them in her invisible world, in his rink, and this time she's struck by how confident she is in discerning his genuine happiness._

_She wants to know, "You're happy, aren't you? Here, wherever here is."_

_Cam shakes his head, rolling his eyes. He gives her a sideways glance to see if she understands why her ignorance is so endearing to him._

_She doesn't._

_"Maya, I'm happy with you," he tells her._

_She gives him a curt nod, trying to ignore the blatant beat her heart missed from his familiar words. "And we're miserable without you."_

_"Actually, I think enough time has passed for our friends and our families. I see Dallas trying to make changes in the team hazing, I see some dark-haired kid going to therapy to sort out his feelings about how he found me, I see your friends, Zig…" He trails off, and Maya can see it's to give her time to adjust, not for his sake._

_Her hands are growing clammy in his._

_"He's been helping me deal with you," Maya admits, biting her bottom lip. "He tells me to write something about you…"_

_He grins, "I saw that he kept your cello safe and sound. He always got that your music was important to you. He's actually a stand up guy…"_

_"Yeah."_

_"When you get past his floppy hair and the ogreness about him."_

_She doesn't hesitate to strike him in the stomach, and he clutches his side dramatically, moaning. She laughs out loud by reflex, and it's then that she realizes how long it had been since she had let herself really go; her laughs come out in loud, awkward bursts._

_He can't help but take advantage of the moment she turns, and he digs at the sensitive spot he found on several occasions before—inches below her left ribs. She instinctively jerks away, but he catches the hem of her sweater, and the awkward grab trips them, and they fall towards the ice in a spinning heap._

_"Jerk," she pants, turning to face him as they lay side by side._

_He turns to hover over her, and shakes his head, showering white flakes over her. She is late to shield the flurry attack with her arms, and she yelps. He cackles before he falls next to her again, catching his breath._

_She closes her eyes, taking in the sound of his breath rising and falling, memorizing the way his laughter rings in her ears. She takes a slow, quiet breath in, and exhales even slower because she can already feel the cold seeping from her skin. The ice underneath seems to be sinking considerably, and she flinches. Her eyes start to well up under her lids, but she can't seem to open them no matter how hard she tries._

_"What else do you see?" She sounds strained, desperate. _

_"You're not the only one miserable, you're not alone…"_

_"Who—"_

_"You have to find my little sister. You need each other."_

_"Cam…" she croaks out, and she's stops herself before a sob splutters through her words._

_"You don't have to ask me twice, May." He says. _

_She feels his breath spread across her lips, and he kisses her mouth in a painfully familiar way._

_His mouth moves over hers, and it's as if she's teetering back and forth on something high, exactly as high as it was the first time he kissed her. His hands tangle in her hair, and she inhales a sharp breath when they slightly part. She swears she can hear her heart racing in her ears as he pulls her closer. She tilts her head up to deepen their kisses, but, because her mind is cruel and her luck had never been there, her lips are met with empty space._

Blaring notes fill her ears now, and her eyes fly open to the sound of her phone ringing at her nightstand. She blindly grabs for it, sliding her thumb over the phone's screen to accept the call.

As soon as she places the phone to her ear, "-aya! Sarah—we can't—where can she be? We can't—" She has to strain to recognize the anxious voice.

Maya sits up in bed, rubbing her eyes as she finally gathers that the voice belongs to Angela, and she's in a panic. "W-what? Mrs. Saunders? Slow down. Please."

"Maya, please. Have you seen Sarah? It's been hours since she's been gone!"


End file.
